


fly with me; oh, save me

by ambertones



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, No Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-27
Updated: 2019-04-27
Packaged: 2020-02-07 05:36:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18614215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ambertones/pseuds/ambertones
Summary: Steve is standing in the doorway, expression guarded, posture tense. Captain America, mistrust writ large.“You’re here,” Tony breathes, before closing his mouth so he doesn’t say something unwelcome.--An imagined scene post-Infinity War - preserving the idea before I see Endgame this weekend and everything changes.





	fly with me; oh, save me

“The kid’s dead. Doc Strange is dead. Everyone I was with is dead.” 

Bruce winces in the face of that horror, his own grief breaking through. Tony has no time for it.

“Is - who’s left?”

Bruce’s expression turns sympathetic. Tony’s stomach sinks. Gripping the edge of the counter, knuckles white, he waits for his execution.

“Natasha, Thor, Clint, me. And… Tony, Steve’s alive.” 

Pause. Pause again. Register the words. 

Tony looks searchingly into innocent, earnest eyes. Paradigm shift. Breath caught, stuck.

“Where–“ 

“Stark?”

Tony spins around before he can stop himself, eyes casting about, fixing on his target. Steve is standing in the doorway, expression guarded, posture tense. Captain America, mistrust writ large. 

“You’re here,” Tony breathes, before closing his mouth so he doesn’t say something unwelcome. He slumps back against the kitchen island, weary, relieved, vulnerable.

Steve’s eyes soften slightly, flick sideways. “Can you give us a minute?” he asks, unnecessarily. The scientist is already halfway out the door, mumbling some kind excuse. 

Tony is paralyzed. 

Ridiculously, he thinks he might cry. His vision is prismed in that rare way that suggests tears. It’s absurd. He had no tears in him when he held the disintegrating body of Peter, the closest thing he had to a child; no tears when he arrived on Earth to learn from Friday about Pepper; about Vision. And here, now, in front of the man who cares about him least of all – 

Hollow, horrible, Tony breaks eye contact and stares off to the side, focuses on remaining upright. Inhale. _Ignore the pain._ Exhale. _You’re lucky he’s here at all._ Inhale. 

Steve comes closer, closer, stops less than an arms’ length away. Exhale. 

“I didn’t think I’d see you again.”

Risking everything, wounded and bracing for an attack, Tony looks up, tired eyes red-rimmed and overflowing. Steve’s expression is miraculously sweet. Sad. Hurt, but not hateful. Not rejecting.

Tony realizes he’s having a panic attack before Steve sees it, tries to back it off, tries to breathe deep and slow the way he knows, but he can see from the blossoming concern in Steve’s face that it isn’t working. Concern for him! Tony would laugh, if he could breathe. Steve always looked the sweetest when he was concerned, always seemed the most endearing when he was trying to work an unsolvable problem. The room swims dizzyingly. 

Steve is grasping his shoulders tightly before Tony can register the movement, invading his space, and Tony collapses against him with a sound he’s never heard himself make. The embrace is solid, warm, heart-breakingly familiar. Still struggling to fight the panic, Tony turns his face into the hollow of Steve’s neck, gasping in deep, shuddering breaths. 

He’s sure with the tears and the hyperventilating he must seem like he’s sobbing. Come to think of it, he’s not sure he isn’t sobbing.

“I’m sorry,” Tony exhales, praying to whatever fucked up god is listening that he won’t be pushed away for this offering, won’t be punished for inadequacy at this moment, won’t be left behind again. “I’m _so_ sorry.”

The tightening of arms around his shaking body is all he needs in return. Slowly, slowly, the panic subsides, and all that’s left is Steve’s heartbeat: steady, constant, true.


End file.
